


Mihashi no Tama

by ochibijan



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Angst, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ochibijan/pseuds/ochibijan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where abe can read mihashi's mind through his pitches</p>
<p>this clears up a lot of misunderstandings, but also creates a lot of confusion</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> a couple things: 
> 
> i refrained from using -kun, -chan, etc. because i find that it just feels really artificial when writing in english (plus it messes with the flow. though i kind of wish i kept it in just for when mihashi's stuttering bc a-be-k-kun is a) fun to write and b) accurate).
> 
> i tried to follow canon events as well as possible but yeah im taking some creative freedom bc it's a fic and i can do what i want
> 
> i titled it mihashi no tama bc tama can mean ball and soul so idk i thought it was creative
> 
> OH and it's my first fic so don't hate on me too much pls
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> -j

It was just a normal day. The sun shone lazily on the field, and the soft breeze passed through like a relaxed sigh. There was no way he could have known something spectacular was about to happen. And even if someone had let him known, he wouldn’t have believed them. Other than the beautiful woman introducing herself before the students as Momoe Maria, an alumnus of the school and their new coach, there were no other sounds to be heard. Well, other than the various noises coming from the nervous first years: pattering feet tapping the dirt, heavy breaths betraying poker faces. Abe Takaya stood amongst a dozen or so other students, all of them anxious to see what Nishiura had to offer. And that all started with the other players.

Abe began imagining an official game with these teammates, creating a lineup in his mind based on each person’s physique (or reputation, as was the case with Tajima Yuuichirou. A venerated clean-up hitter, his small stature made his batting average all the more impressive, earning him the fourth spot in Abe’s mind.) He started getting lost in his thoughts, as he too often does, and felt his face going into a frown that created a subtle distance between him and the others around him -- Izumi Kousuke, who stepped away out of an aversion to dealing with a stranger’s emotions, and Mizutani Fumiki, who awkwardly inched away with concern for both Abe’s and his own well being. Abe was in the middle of fixing his facial expression when he heard, by some miracle, a detached voice claim to be a pitcher.

Abe craned his neck left and right to get a clearer look at the owner of the voice, since all he could see were tufts of sandy colored hair wavering like the boy’s intonation. Momoe spoke loud enough for the rest of the boys to hear: “We’ve got a pitcher now!” Abe’s mind began running rampant again, occasionally flashing back to his traumatic experiences with Haruna Motoki before Abe shook the thought of him away. He wondered what type of pitcher he would be dealing with now, whether he could handle him. Whether he could handle another Haruna. A pitcher with his mind too far in the future to consider the people in the present. Before he could fully recall the bitterness with which he regards Haruna, Momoe shifted enough to let Abe see his new partner.

Mihashi Ren stood out in the still, calm field. His legs twitched as if begging to run away, and he fidgeted with his hands. His eyes were wide, showcasing his brown eyes -- no, they were more of a hazel, weren’t they? Only there was nothing steady about this hazel. Where most hazel eyes reflect a mixture of the stability of the earth and the vitality of nature, Mihashi’s showed the weedy remnants of an earthquake. There was much to be told in the way bright green hid behind muddy brown. Still, they shimmered in the dull afternoon light (or was that the sheen of saltwater threatening to fall down his cheeks?)

Abe made his way over to introduce himself to Mihashi, forcing the blanched pitcher to make eye contact. But after attempting to strike up a simple conversation, Abe’s unsaid invitation to form a battery was rejected.

 

 

Luckily, they were able to get Mihashi to pitch a bit before he completely forwent the team. Abe squatted and watched Mihashi move on the mound. _He’s such a coward in the simplest situations_ , he thought to himself, _but on the mound, he really does stand like a pitcher. Like an ace._ Abe began thinking about how to form a team around an ace like this, before remembering he might not even join the team. _Let’s see how he pitches and then decide his value._

Mihashi pitched and, like he warned everybody multiple times before, it didn’t seem to be anything special. The ball was slow and didn’t break; it was just a simple, quirky fastball. But it was what happened when it hit Abe’s glove that sent shivers up his neck and down his legs. He gripped the ball through his glove when suddenly, quietly speaking to him was a voice. Mihashi’s voice. And he wasn’t speaking from the mound, no. It was all in Abe’s mind. If it wasn’t for the relevance of the words and the slight, nervous stutter, Abe would have passed it off as his mind doing its usual thing and going places it shouldn’t. He could only catch a couple sentences before it faded away.

_ “I sh-shouldn’t have told them I’m a pitcher. They expected too much of me, and now I’m disappointing them. I’m sure Abe doesn’t want a -- a no-good pitcher like me anyway. I shouldn’t have come here today. B-but now that I’ve pitched, I can leave. . . .” _

Mihashi started walking off the mound, his actions matching his words (thoughts?), but Abe called out to him before throwing the ball back, asking him for another pitch. Mihashi obeyed his silent request. This time, when Abe caught it, he was ready to listen to Mihashi’s voice. It rang clearer in his mind, not so much passing through his ears but going straight into his brain to be deciphered. In the silence of the area, with everyone watching Mihashi’s pitches, Abe listened closely to every stammer.

_ “Why is Abe ask -- asking for more? Is he messing w-with me? They’re probably going to make f-fun of my pitches later. It happened at Mihoshi, and they all knew me. Th-these people are strangers so I don’t even want to imagine what they’d say.” _

Frustrated at Mihashi’s inherent distrust for his new teammates, Abe threw the ball back a bit too hard, but Mihashi was unfazed. In fact, he was more confused about why Abe continued these shenanigans when, in Mihashi’s mind, having him as an ace would doom the team.

 

Abe called for at least a dozen pitches from Mihashi before setting up for a three-at-bat game against Hanai Azusa, a cleanup confident enough to vocalize his dissatisfaction in having a female coach. Unfortunately for him, Abe was just a smidge more sure of himself, enough to push Mihashi to trust him, a complete stranger, in proving the worth of his quirky fastball. Still, Abe wasn’t sure if Mihashi was worth the effort. Not that he was a bad kid, but would it be easier to build up an ace from scratch? They worked out their signs before starting the game, the thoughts still hot in Abe’s mind. But one pitch from Mihashi quelled any doubt in Abe’s mind. It wasn’t the fact that Mihashi pitched exactly what Abe asked for, where Abe asked for it. It wasn’t the fact that Hanai wasn’t even able to touch the ball, though that certainly helped his ego. It was what Mihashi’s pitch said to Abe, a whisper that spoke louder than any chant, a handful of words that touched every part of Abe’s heart.

 

It was just a normal day, but it became the first of many extraordinary ones. The sun shone lazily on the field, the soft breeze passed through like a relaxed sigh, and a breathy voice swam through Abe’s mind: _“I want to pitch.”_

 


	2. The Catcher's Role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For someone who could literally read his mind, Abe had no clue what Mihashi was thinking."
> 
> AU version of S1E2 where Nishiura goes on a training camp, and Abe's fears of being unnecessary or thrown aside threaten to resurface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, taking some creative freedom in what happens during the episode but i think this one is pretty accurate tbh
> 
> it's really short but ch. 3 should be up real soon (like a few hours soon probably) i really just don't want to flesh it out more than i need to. all im gonna be including are abe-centric, abemiha moments
> 
> OH and i haven't proofread this but i really wanna get started on the next chapters so lmk if anything's not right
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> -j

For someone who could  _ literally read his mind _ , Abe had no clue what Mihashi was thinking. The past couple of weeks had shown Abe that Mihashi is nothing like Haruna -- his complete opposite, actually. Where Haruna’s very presence could scare batters into messing up the easiest meatballs, Mihashi gave off the aura of a frightened puppy. Where Haruna spoke too much, too loudly, overpowering Abe at every intersection of their lives, Mihashi didn’t speak at all. And even when he did speak, he rarely said anything of substance.

But where Haruna treated the mound in front of Abe like one of many rungs on a ladder leading towards his future as a professional athlete, Mihashi revered pitching to Abe in a way he had never seen before. The wonderment wasn’t one-sided. Abe couldn’t deny the gravitational pull he felt from day one. Mihashi’s pitches drew in the young catcher, and they could only be traced back to a fragile, pale body shivering on the mound. Abe followed the pitch like the moon follows the Earth, unknowingly trailing within the sun’s wake.

That orbit contributed to his apprehension when Momoe suggested to Mihashi that he adjust his pitching, stabilize his lower half so his pitches could have more power. It’s not that Abe doesn’t want Mihashi’s pitches to get faster. He’s an ambitious catcher, determined to make it to Koushien with a team of first years. Of course he wants the team’s ace to be stronger. But. . . what was it. . . kind of a “Don’t go where I can’t follow” type thing. Except it was more like “Don’t go where I’ve already been” or “Don’t go where I don’t want to.”

Still amused by Mihashi’s slow pitch (her laughter towards his pitcher riling up something deep and dormant in Abe’s gut), Momoe took the opportunity to show Mihashi the benefits of having a strong base. Abe couldn’t deny it: Momoe pitched well. And if Mihashi could pitch like this, then Koshien would be not yet practical, but at least less of a pipe dream. Slowly, Abe’s concern died down and he began to understand the implications of what Momoe was teaching Mihashi. _There is still room to grow, to improve, and we are going to help you._

But then Mihashi pitched his first attempt. And Abe didn’t like what he heard.

It was faint, as the ball came down after crashing into the fence behind him. Mihashi lay on the dirt as he stared at his hand, the sensation of torn capillaries foreign and exhilarating. Abe tried to listen to the ball that came to a stop a few feet behind him as Momoe walked off to tell Mihashi his new speed, and caught just a few words.

_ “I h-have to improve. Be-become a b-better pitcher. A real ace.” _

Abe promised he would make Mihashi a real ace, that he would take Mihashi’s underappreciated ability and showcase it to the nation, but now Mihashi was taking his own route to that stage. He could feel something dark crawling at the pit of his chest. Something he hadn’t felt since catching for Haruna, something that was born amidst all that anxiety and inferiority. As he spoke to Mihashi, trying to convince him that his pitching is enough as is, his green-grey eyes shifted into a much more sinister shade, reflecting his hostility towards a world where he invariably gets left behind.

  
_ What does it mean to be a catcher? _ Momoe said he doesn’t understand, and she was right. As a child, he believed being a catcher meant leading your ace, directing his power. But then Haruna came around, and he changed his mentality to fit his appalling situation. Then, being a catcher was about creating a human backboard for the ace. Receiving the brunt of his brilliance and providing no shine in return. Now he was out of that vacuum, with Mihashi before him as the perfect chance to realign the power scale. Abe thought it was his turn to take the reigns. That being a catcher meant controlling the game from the shadows. It wasn’t so much the question, but the myriad of answers -- probably wrong answers -- that haunted him the entire duration of the camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying real hard to make it not feel like a summary of the show with just some interesting commentary but im afraid it's getting like that so lmk how you feel!
> 
> it's gonna be a super super super slow build so just warning you all now BUT i will probably be updating often so no worries abt being left hanging
> 
> in this AU there was NO past haruna x abe okay haruna just really made abe the jaded, grumpy man he is when we meet him
> 
> these beginning chapters are more like introducing my interpretations of the charas but we'll be getting into abemiha territory v soon and i can't WAIT


End file.
